Fishing at Dusk

Written by: Barbara Gorelick


I cast out my line, not caring if I catch anything or not The sun is setting and the river sings its sweet song Fish ducks fly low over the water, saluting the dusk This is my place, the place I know I belong... A steelhead jumps at the head of the riffle Teasing me as he rises to grab the fly I acknowledge his place in life's scheme To him life's worries surely do not apply... A tug on my line brings me back again I set the hook and my heart skips a beat He jumps one or twice and spits the fly No matter, this lovely day is complete..